Monthly Archives: November 2016

Was scurrying about on the Guadalupe Trail when I spied this thing spying on the Virginia lightrail overpass. It’s stuck up in a eucalyptus, as you can see, and appears to be a motion-activated camera or something. Search terms on the internet aren’t turning up anything specific to the city, though I’m led to believe that it intends to cotch vandals.

I’d simply love to interview the city employee who had to paint it eucalyptus camouflage. Anyone who knows should comment below!

For me it has a guttural shouty voice like, “Rrrrrrrri’m spottin in the buuuuurrshhhh!!” The padlock tells me that it’s either got a wireless telephone up under it or a stash of corn nuts.

I have a therapist now. His name is Miguel Zenón. He has promised me that our therapeutic treatments will not result in my writing’s being more bourgeois or self-pitying. And he plays on stages sponsored by global asset management, so don’t be thinking he’s just some dirty Mexican you don’t need to listen to. I think his is the most important music being made in this country right now, at least that I’m aware of.

Speaking of anxiety, some lame article by News Wire says that people who complain are disposed physically through the act of complaint to be anxious and depressed. If there was ever proof that psychology is not productive science at all, but rather racist and imperialist rhetoric, this is it. According to the study –completed by a computer analyst! –those of us who are anxious because the fucking ecosystems of the planet are collapsing so we can have cars and internet, we are just complainers making ourselves sick by voicing our outrage and trying to scream the truth to a world of deaf consumers.

But those who screw as many people as they can to be financially successful, who refuse to raise their kids, who never leave the place of work, the suburban enclave or the gym, are justified in their anxiety for working so hard to be successful. As long as they don’t complain, because that just makes things worse. There you have it.

Here’s some Black Lives Matter papel picado strung up on the second floor of King Library in downtown San José for the festivities of el día de los muertos. I don’t expect any of yall to understand, since all you have to do is not break the law. You’da shot him too, yknow? Some thug.

Anyhow, I thought it was tigh-ee-igh-eet. And white people should love the juxtaposition, since next to the BLM papeles are ones with skulls on them, representing genocide against black and native people, from a certain point of view. What’s not to love?

On the fifth floor was an exhibition of beautiful photos of various altars from México from the 1990s to the current day. I particularly liked this one from the Yucatán that had only natural stuff, which ancient Mexicans would have put on their altars. Pencas de nopal, that kind of stuff. A good time was had by all.